


Tea and Treaties

by Allara



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almyra (Fire Emblem), Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of Racism, Oneshot, POV Edelgard von Hresvelg, Political Intrigue, Post-Canon, Post-Crimson Flower, kind of, mentions of Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allara/pseuds/Allara
Summary: “Emperor Edelgard,” he smiled, extending a hand forward. She didn’t bother looking at it, instead fixing her steely eyes on him before placing her hand in his. He politely bowed his head to kiss her gloved knuckles. “I must thank you for gracing us with your hospitality, Your Majesty.”“Claude,” she hissed quietly so the others would not hear. “Of all your schemes this is your most inconceivable one yet.”Edelgard receives a missive from the newly-crowned king of Almyra, and he isn't quite who she expected.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Claude von Riegan, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Claude von Riegan, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Tea and Treaties

**Author's Note:**

> I will never get tired of fics about Claude surprising people by showing up and being like "hey I'm the king of Almyra btw"

Whispers often haunted the Monastery. Edelgard found that it was more unusual when there  _ wasn’t  _ some form of gossip making its rounds, as with the absence of a war to groan over the people often opted for unimportant drama instead. 

Yet, it still amazed her how quickly word spread. 

Ferdinand was regalling her on supplies updates, entirely ignoring his meal before him while Edelgard politely nodded along and poked at her own food while her mind wandered. Her head was a noisy mess from the missive she had received this morning, and the murmurs of the contents of that letter were already finding their way through the monastery--

“Could be a siege in disguise,” a voice said in behind her, hardly audible over the humming buzz of conversation in the dining hall. His companion huffed in what Edelgard could only guess to be disapproval. 

“With their history, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Edelgard skewered a carrot with a bit more force than entirely necessary. 

“Bunch of brutes,” the first responded. 

If it weren’t for her irritation at the audacity of the two men, she would have been baffled at their uncaring, blunt gossiping when she was a mere table away from them. Or perhaps they assumed she harbored similar sentiments--which was decidedly worse, Edelgard thought. She would have to do something to remedy that; prove that she was truthfully enthused by countries beyond Fódlan corresponding with them and that Fódlan must learn to embrace these changes--  
“Edelgard?”

She glanced up at Ferdinand’s inquisitive stare, having long since halted his monologue. 

“Forgive me,” she sighed, resisting the urge to rub her temples. “I have much on my mind.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he smiled, straightening further upright. “Might I inquire what has your mind so occupied? I hope I am not being presumptuous in guessing it might involve the missive from east.”

“From Almyra,” Edelgard confirmed. “Directly from the newly-crowned king, to be specific.”

Ferdinand’s brows rose in intrigued surprise. “When was the last time Fódlan received such a correspondence from Almyra?”

Edelgard huffed a tired laugh, fingers thrumming on her fork. “I would guess decades--if not centuries.”

“Remarkable,” he hummed, eyes flitting past her head before landing on her once more. “It seems you are destined to expand a just world even beyond the borders of Fódlan. Brigid and Almyra are just the start.”

Edelgard’s lips twitched in the beginnings of a fond smile, ever grateful for her dear friend’s optimism. “We don’t yet know what Almyra wants,” she reminded him. “The king only requested to meet at the Monastery to become acquainted. He was notably vague in what he wished to discuss; only that it was in hopes of a peaceful meeting.”

The eager gleam in Ferdinand’s eyes was not dissuaded. “The king would be a fool not to be peaceable with Fódlan. It would greatly benefit both parties. I wonder what kind of trade Almyra might offer? I have heard rumors of their incredible industrial technology. Some say they mine for oil--a trade on that front would be invaluable to Fódlan. We could--”

Edelgard’s smile grew fond as Ferdinand continued his excited rambling, ever enthusiastic in the face of promising change. As ever, his sunshiny outlook lifted her brooding spirits, and she opted to ignore the cloud of suspicious whisperings in the hall. 

  
  


“I still think you push yourself too hard--especially lately with the Almyrans arriving soon.”

Edelgard glanced up from the ornate teapot in Dorothea’s hand, searching over the other woman’s face. Dorothea met her gaze and offered her a sympathetic smile before returning her attention to pouring tea. 

“We’ve been over this before,” Edelgard sighed. “I am merely setting the groundwork now so that I appoint a successor in my stead and retire.”

“I know,” she drawled, as though exhausted by the topic already--Edelgard knew she herself was tired by it; it was something Dorothea insisted they discuss far more often than Edelgard wanted to. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to take a break every once in a while before then.”

“I will as soon as my work is done.”

Dorothea frowned at that, settling back in her seat to take her tea cup in hand. “How will you know when you’ve done everything you’ve set out to do? Besides, have you even decided on a successor yet?”

“I would prefer a system or group to replace me rather than a singular person,” Edelgard explained, staring at the whorls of steam drifting lazily from her cup. “Or else everything we have done might be undone with a whole new tyrant.”

Edelgard knew that she would likely be listed in history books as a bloodied tyrant. But such knowledge didn’t daunt her if it meant she laid the foundation for a better system within Fódlan. 

“Perhaps you can travel somewhere. Take a vacation,” Dorothea said after a moment, wrangling their conversation back to the previous topic. Edelgard blinked tiredly at her, and Dorothea merely ignored the look. “Fódlan is a united land now--you could go anywhere. Heavens, you could even travel outside of Fódlan now that restrictions aren’t so tight with Rhea gone. I’m sure Petra would love to show you Brigid.”

“And if I don’t want to travel?” Edelgard lied.

“Edie,” Dorothea chuckled, “I know you. You would travel outside of Fódlan just to spite Rhea’s ghost. So, where would you go?”  
She scoffed, lifting her teacup. “I have no idea,” Edelgard lied again. 

Edelgard had barely pressed the rim of the cup to her lips when there was a polite knock at her door.

“The Almyran embassy has arrived, Your Majesty.”

Dorothea raised a slim brow when Edelgard hastily set her cup back to its saucer, porcelain clinking on porcelain. 

“Thank you,” Edelgard called back, rising from her seat and stepping past the table. 

“They got here quickly,” Dorothea murmured, voicing Edelgard’s own thoughts. She rose as well.

“Edie, let me escort you.”

Edelgard paused, brushing her trousers off. “Please do.”

She smiled, taking Edelgard’s arm in her own and towing her to the door to allow them both out. Edelgard cursed that she hadn’t thought to prepare more--she was donned in a stiff doublet buttoned to her throat that tucked into plain trousers. As she glanced at her boots, she frowned at the scuffs and dirt on their leather. Dorothea appeared prim and darling beside her as always, with her hair curled and donned in a scarlet frock--

“You look fine, Edie,” Dorothea assured her gently, squeezing her arm to pull her from her thoughts. They were hurrying past the pond, and already Edelgard could hear the flurry of workers rushing to receive their guests. “It’s impossible for you to not appear stunning. You’ll knock them off their feet.”

“I only wish I had a moment to dress a little more formally,” Edelgard sighed. Her jaw already ached from chewing a mess into the inside of her cheek. “But no matter. It’s unimportant.”

Edelgard instead allowed her a moment to revel in the excitement of meeting people from Almyra. Dorothea had been correct in saying that there was a dogged part of Edelgard that took great joy in spiting Rhea and the damage she inflicted on Fódlan during her long reign. Reaching out and forming alliances with outside countries was a productive way to do that--and to topple Fódlan’s long-standing walls that isolated its people.

With that thought in mind, Edelgard allowed an eager confidence in her step.

Together they rounded the last corner that opened into the marketplace, which had been cleared to allow room for the embassy to land. For a moment Edelgard could only see a flurry of russet-colored wings and glints of gold before her mind caught up and she made forms of well-dressed riders mounted on wyverns out of the commotion. 

As Edelgard and Dorothea descended the stairs, Edelgard was at once struck with how much larger these wyverns were compared to the breed often used in Fódlan, and she felt small among them. 

The noon sun reflected a flash of white among the brown, and Edelgard’s breath lodged in her throat. Lifting to her toes, she peered over the heads of curious onlookers, unwilling to allow the confused, fledgling hope to gain traction in her chest. 

Dorothea glanced at her as she strained on her toes before turning back to the crowd and clearing her throat noisily. People around them took note of their emperor’s arrival, hastily scrambling aside to permit her through. 

The pair waded through the parted crowd, arriving just before their guests. The warriors eyed them curiously as they took their time to dismount, unashamed in their gawking. Edelgard pointedly ignored them--it wasn’t the first time her hair color had received such interest. 

Instead, she stared past the settling wyverns, her attention flying like an arrow through them until it landed on a familiar beast of pearly scales. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest, and for a moment she was afraid she would sway on her feet from the tangle of disbelief clouding her mind. 

If it weren’t for his notorious wyvern, she almost wouldn’t have recognized him. 

He was wrapped in forest-green silk, the cuffs and hems embroidered with glittering gold thread and embellished with metal detail. The light fabric followed him like water as he slid from his saddle, landing on well-polished riding boots. As he turned to her, she finally took note of the gold diadem encircling his brow and tangled in the untamable mess of his dark hair. 

Claude had the audacity to send her a grin across the courtyard before turning his head to speak to one of his men. The recipient nodded curtly before barking an unfamiliar word to the rest of the men, and within the next breath they were bowing towards her. 

Edelgard realized numbly that Dorothea had let go of her arm, and she was now standing alone surrounded by towering wyverns. But her attention was pinned stubbornly to the insufferable man across the courtyard. 

After handing off the reins to the same man, Claude finally drew nearer, his gait just as confident yet impossibly languid as she recalled. 

All she could do was stare at him as he closed the distance, stopping just an arm’s length away. From this close, she could see how his hair was the slightest bit longer, his warm skin more sun-kissed. And as he peered down at her, she was startled by how bright his eyes were in the presence of his green regalia. 

She had never considered how stunning he would appear in green, and she was now cursing him for it. 

“Emperor Edelgard,” he smiled, extending a hand forward. She didn’t bother looking at it, instead fixing her steely eyes on him before placing her hand in his. He politely bowed his head to kiss her gloved knuckles. “I must thank you for gracing us with your hospitality, Your Majesty.”  
“Claude,” she hissed quietly so the others would not hear. “Of all your schemes this is your most inconceivable one yet.”

He merely winked in return, straightening upright again and clasping his hands behind his back to feign supposed propriety. It was a strange look for him, Edelgard decided. 

“Your safe arrival is a great relief, Your Majesty,” Edelgard announced for the crowded marketplace, holding his gaze with her own. “I welcome you and your men to Garreg Mach Monastery.”

“It’s an honor,” Claude told her. “I hope to make history in our time here.”

“As do I,” Edelgard agreed, eyes never leaving him as though she could convey her bewilderment silently. She was eager to speak with him privately--though, she doubted she would be able to keep her rising annoyance in check without an audience present. Her mind was currently stumbling through all she knew of his past, of all the hints he might have given her--and it was coming up frustratingly empty. 

“Please,” she continued, finally breaking their tense stare to gesture a sweeping hand back to the monastery. “Allow me to escort you and your men to your quarters. You must be fatigued after a long journey.”

“Lead the way, Your Majesty.” Claude turned his attention to his embassy, switching to a language Edelgard did not recognize to address them. Many of them chuckled in response to whatever he said, finishing their untacking before gathering closer. 

Edelgard took that as her cue to lead onward. She walked curtly from the marketplace with her shoulders squared and determinedly not looking back at the infuriating man who had occupied her thoughts for years. 

She was almost impressed with how thoroughly he had managed to avoid her thus far. 

Though, if she were to reason with herself, she knew that playing diplomat allowed very little time for more casual conversation. 

After allowing his men to get settled in their quarters for their stay, a feast was held in the dining hall. There was an odd tension through the entire ordeal that Edelgard could practically taste: the Almyrans and Fódlaners hardly mingled with each other. Claude was one of the few brave enough to wander outside of his embassy to catch up with old friends and to greet new faces. Otherwise, the language barrier proved to be a near-insurmountable wall for the two groups. Edelgard had attempted to strike conversation with a few, but only Nader and one other were proficient in Fódlani to exchange any words. Dorothea and Ferdinand had attempted as well--with much more result due to their dual charisma and ability to make others at ease--but otherwise it was a stiff gathering. 

By the time the night was deemed late enough and members of the room began trickling away, many stumbling in the process in no small part from inebriation, there were few who remained. Claude was among them, and even from her station across the hall Edelgard could tell he was frustrated. It was an unusual emotion on his features, and one that he concealed expertly with a well-stitched smile, but she knew him well enough to see the slightly disheartened slouch to his shoulders. 

Edelgard had taken her leave shortly after that, thoroughly exhausted from such a busy day. 

The following day had proven occupied as well, starting off with training with Felix in the knight hall, then commencing the first meetings with the Almyran embassy. Claude had aided as a translator for both sides, explaining that the Almyran throne had a desire to open trade and relations with Fódlan after centuries of tension. It was an enticing proposal, Edelgard could not deny, with a well-concocted plan of trade material and benefits on both sides. 

He appeared surprised when she and her council met his offers with little dispute, as did many of the other dignitaries in the meeting with them. 

The rest of the day had been a flurry of tasks and trying to speak with the dignitaries, often with Nader’s aid as Claude was too busy with his own duties. By the time Edelgard retired to her quarters again that evening, she collapsed on top of her bed and fell into a swift, deep sleep while still in her imperial regalia. 

The next days followed similarly, and Edelgard was rapidly losing her patience. Claude seemed elusive and evasive as a scheming student in their academy days. She saw him everywhere in the monastery like a wraith, chatting with faculty or with his men, all bright, sugary smiles. But anytime she approached to request a moment with him, he seemed to disappear just as quickly. 

By the time she woke on the fourth day, there was a twitch developing just below her eye. She glared at the dim window. 

A knock sounded at her door, and she pushed herself upright while suppressing a groan. 

“Yes?”

“Lady Dorothea has requested you for tea on the star terrace, Your Majesty.”

“Right now?” Edelgard shoved her covers aside, swinging her feet to the cool wood slats of the floor.   
“Within a quarter hour, yes.”

“Understood. Thank you,” Edelgard called to the servant through the door, scrambling to gather her clothes for the day. She tossed on a simple pair of black trousers, tucking an elegant scarlet blouse into its high waist. Atop it she wore a stiff doublet, buttoning it just below her throat. After taming her hair into a simple plait, she slipped a pair of boots on and left her quarters a short five minutes later. 

The sun had barely risen by the time she climbed the top floor of the monastery, long golden streams of sunlight checkering the hallway’s floor. With a breath, she allowed some of the stress to dissipate, merely allowing her fingers to wander the pockets of warm sunlight as she passed through them. 

Mornings were always her favorite time of day. Waking to a quiet, glowing world made the stress of the daytime seem easier to crest--and entirely worth it if it meant waking to another golden dawn. As she rounded the corner to the threshold leading to the terrace the gentle cadence of robins reached her ears, and she allowed herself a small smile. 

Edelgard stepped out onto the intricate stonework, blinking past the shine of morning light, and froze. 

Claude rattled the tea table as he bolted up from his seat, wincing as he bashed his knee gracelessly against the table in the process. 

“Your Majesty,” he called, a false nonchalance warming his tone, entirely contrasting his startled movements. He forced a laugh, and his body eased into a relaxed stance as though to amend his slip in composure. “You about scared the daylights out of me.”

For a moment she could only gape at him before soothing her face into a neutral expression. 

“What are you doing here, Claude?” Edelgard demanded, still planted in her spot and settling her hand on her hip. She already had a hunch--and she doubted she would be impressed.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he responded vaguely, settling his hands on the edge of the table. “Ferdinand sent for me saying he wanted to chat over tea, and here I am.”

Edelgard considered his words, eyes perusing his expression. He held her gaze in return, and she could find no tell of lying in his features. He appeared just as puzzled as she. 

She sighed quietly, allowing her hand to fall from her hip. “It appears we’ve been conspired against.”

Claude chuckled again, the sound softer this time--and far warmer. “I assume he sent for you too?”

“Dorothea did,” Edelgard confirmed, shaking her head in exasperation. 

“I guess I can’t be too surprised by Dorothea scheming like that,” Claude admitted. “But Ferdinand? I daresay marriage has made him more conniving.”

“Dorothea has that kind of influence,” Edelgard agreed, stubbornly pressing the persistent urge to smile into a neutral line. She was still rather irritated with him, and would not give him the victory of her amusement.

Claude huffed another strained laugh, gaze falling away to the table while he idly picked at the chipping paint of the table with his thumb. Edelgard watched him a moment, observing the persistent curl of hair that fell over his face before glancing away as well. 

She silently battled with herself: there was a vast part of herself that wanted to shove the table aside and embrace him and berate him for leaving for so long, while the stronger, pettier side of her was still seething with a volatile mix of anger, confusion, and a strange strain of hurt. 

After a stretch of silence, he finally looked up once more, clearing his throat. 

“Well,” he said, breaking the melody of robins, “There’s no point in wasting food, and there’s a nice table of tea and sweets here. Join me?”

Edelgard stared at him, noting the shyer look of pleading beneath his casual invitation. For a moment, she considered telling him “no” and turning to leave him alone on the terrace. It was a powerful impulse, and she opened her mouth before hesitating. 

Yet, she had been wishing for a moment to speak to him alone for several days now, and here was her perfect chance delivered to her from Dorothea. 

“Very well,” she relented quietly. Claude brightened at that, moving around the table to draw her chair out for her. She took a seat, determinedly staring at the elegant teapot on the table--one of Ferdinand’s, she recognized. Claude sat back down on the other side, moving to pour them both tea. The tangy scent of bergamot reached her nose, and Edelgard almost scoffed. Dorothea had likely attempted to apologize by at least providing Edelgard’s favorite tea. 

Another lapse of silence hung over them as Edelgard sipped politely at her tea, tasting nothing. 

As she glanced up, she caught Claude watching her with a peculiar expression, but he looked away before she could identify it. 

“I see the monastery is fully repaired now,” Claude noted, tone light. “It looks even better than I remember.”

“We restored some of the structural deficiencies from age,” Edelgard said, like a detached recitation. “We also hired artisans to incorporate architectural designs from all around Fódlan on the repairs. 

Claude smiled at that. “It’s truly a landmark of all of Fódlan now, I’d say.”

“That’s the hope, at least,” Edelgard agreed. “The academy should reopen by the start of the year now that the structure is safe.”

“It’s wonderful that it will be more accessible to wealthy and poor alike,” Claude said, recalling the contents of one of the many letters she had sent him recently. “It’ll set a great example for the rest of Fódlan as well.”

Edelgard hummed her agreement into her tea, allowing the stiff conversation to die out once more. Claude shifted in her periphery, likely scrambling mentally to find a way to revive it. 

So she was surprised when he sighed instead, setting his teacup back on its saucer and dropping his hands onto his lap.   
“Edelgard, look,” he said, and she watched him silently. “I know you’re mad, but--”

“‘Mad’ isn’t quite the right word,” she interjected calmly. 

“Irritated, confused,” he corrected, whirling his hand through the air as though to wave his other words away, “whatever it might be. I understand, and I’m sorry.”

She raised a slim brow at him. “That’s it?”

He blinked at her, searching her face. “Yes?”

“No explanation? No reason for why you didn’t tell me you were crowned king of  _ Almyra _ ?”

“Ah,” he scratched idly at the side of his neck, “well, that would require an entire life story, if we’re being honest.”

Edelgard glanced pointedly at the newborn sun, stretching to sit more upright. “There’s time. Surely I deserve something of an explanation?”

“You do,” he agreed quietly. “I’m just not entirely sure where to even start.”

“You told me that your father wasn’t from Fódlan. That’s all you’ve ever said.”

“That’s still true,” he assured. “Tiana von Riegan dropped her title in the Alliance to cross the border and marry the love of her life. It’s just that man also happened to be the king of Almyra at the time.”

“Your father is the king?”

“Was,” he confirmed. His eyes were trained stubbornly to the side, as though to hide. Claude had always been secretive about his past--anyone that knew him the slightest bit knew that much--but Edelgard was now struck with the realization that perhaps it wasn’t merely out of the mystery of it all, but that speaking of it was  _ difficult  _ for him. 

Some of her steely resolve softened, and she allowed her shoulders to relax. 

“He and my mother are retired now, of course.”

“You weren’t born in Fódlan, then.” It was more a statement than an inquiry. 

Claude shook his head hesitantly. “I had never even been here until I was sixteen. It was just after my mother received word that her brother was dead.”

Edelgard sifted through her early memories of Claude, drawing up old images of plastered smiles from a cynical boy. She would have never guessed that he had only been living in Fódlan for a year by the time she met him. 

“I don’t understand,” Edelgard admitted after a moment. “If you were the crown prince of Almyra, why come to Fódlan to be your grandfather’s heir? Why did that concern you when you had even greater prospects elsewhere?”

“I wasn’t the crown heir. I’m the youngest of twelve half-siblings who were all vying for the throne before me.”

Edelgard raised her brows in surprise. 

“Things work a bit different over there,” Claude shrugged. “While my eldest brother was the official heir, per tradition the rest of the royal children are allowed to fight for the throne. It’s survival of the fittest, in many ways.”

“And you won.”

“In my own way,” he confirmed elusively. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you chose to drop all of that beforehand for Fódlan.”

Claude’s expression turned sharper around the edges, tinged with a bitter look that surprised her. “I’m not the most well-liked person in Almyra--let alone among the royal court. Fódlaners aren’t particularly loved there, so having a mother from here made me the ‘runt of the litter’, I’m afraid. I had hoped for better odds in Fódlan, but imagine my disappointment when I found that it’s much the same here--just the other way around.”

Edelgard watched as he traced circles on the handle of his teacup, falling quiet. There were still a thousand questions whirring in her mind, but they were all dulled into silence as a saddened realization settled over her. 

“Claude,” she finally said, drawing his attention. “I would never have thought any less of you had I known.”

He offered her a small smile--the most genuine of the many he had shown her today. “I know. But, I’m a bit of a coward sometimes. And I won’t deny that I’m a sucker for the dramatics.”

She shook her head at him, resisting the urge to reach across the table to still his fidgeting hand with her own. “You certainly made quite the entrance, I cannot deny.”

“Since I’m already being so honest,” Claude admitted with a grin, “it was mostly to see Lorenz turn inside out with sheer disdain.”

Edelgard finally relented and allowed a smile to warm her face, amused. “Of course it was.”

A thought struck her, and she chewed the inside of her cheek as she considered how to voice it. 

It was a tentative thing, Edelgard now knew, for Claude to speak of his heritage and past. Though she could never truly understand why--despite her own childhood being wrought with its own horrors--she was unsure how to handle such shocking revelations, and how to show her appreciation for his honesty. 

She finally allowed the gentler side of her to take action, and she reached over the table to brush her fingers against his. Claude stiffened nearly imperceptibly, his fingers stilling. But the tendons in his hand soothed as he relaxed, and he hooked their fingers together. Edelgard ignored the heat climbing up her neck. 

“What would you rather me call you?”

Claude appeared surprised by her question, lips parting slightly. He considered his words a moment before allowing his fingers to wander further until they reached her palm, fingertips brushing against her wrist. His fingers were warm even through her gloves, and she knew he was tracing what they both knew to be concealed beneath. 

“Claude isn’t a fake name--or person, for that matter,” he decided. “I’m just as much Claude as I am anything else. Khalid may be my born name, but both names are me.”

“Khalid,” she tested, trying to echo the way it sounded from his lips, and face heating when she fumbled with the pronunciation. But he beamed regardless, his smile warming his face all the way up to his verdant eyes. 

“You’ll get there,” he teased, and she shot him an unamused look whose effect was likely nulled by her reddened face. 

“You’d best be more civil to me, Khalid,” she warned. “I still haven’t finalized the treaty and trade agreements with Almyra.”

Claude feigned a remorseful look, forcing a pout around the smile from her usage of his name. “I came all the way here to make friends with you and you’d turn me away so quickly?”

“It depends,” she said into her tea. “You’ll just have to make up for your schemes and teasing.”

“I am at your mercy, Your Majesty,” he attempted an awkward bow while still seated, and Edelgard laughed into her cup. “Anything to make it up to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Claude smiled. “See to it that you will.”


End file.
